#or at least vash does. or at least just for this one moment
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bound to want (part two) /// part one
rest of pages under READ MORE after ID
[ID: 23 page digital comic of Vashwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic is in a limited palette of a dark blue, light pink, white, black, and a light beige color for Vash's skin and a mid-brown color for Wolfwood's. This comic is the second part to "Bound to Want" and is spoiler-free. The first part is linked here.
It begins with a panel close up of Vash's expressions. The sky colored in dark blue can be seen behind him. He has a neutral expression, but he holds a slight frown and the reflection of his glasses covers one side of his eyes. Wolfwood says, "Hey. What's with the distance?" In the second panel, the shot widens to show both of them, a clear physical distance separating them with Wolfwood walking ahead and Vash trailing a little behind. Vash responds, "What? I'm just walking a bit slower today..." Wolfwood looks at him with a an irritated expression, clicking his tongue. Wolfwood says, "I was going to wait for you to start... But yer just running away away."
Vash is seen looking away, unable to hold eye contact with Wolfwood as he continues, "You've been avoiding me since that night. Did ya think I wouldn't notice? It's about that dream, right? Tell me about it already if you're going to be moping like this." Vash looks slightly downwards, his brows furrowing and he starts to walk ahead of Wolfwood without looking at him and responds stiffly, "I really don't want to talk about it..." Wolfwood looks at him with a surprised expression, but doesn't probe.
A panel close up to Wolfwood's eyes as he watches Vash go on ahead before he follows suite with an irritated sigh. The panels are overlapped by Wolfwood's hand holding the bottle of the Bride with motion lines, indicating a transition in time.
A wide shot of Vash and Wolfwood in a room now. Vash is seated, his back turned away from the viewer, while Wolfwood's body faces the viewer with his eyes looking towards Vash. He rests the bottle of the Bride on the table with a "clack" and his other hand holds two shotglasses. The background is coated in a light pink.
A panel shows a close up of Wolfwood's face, his eyes looking downwards to Vash as he says, "Let's drink." Next to this panel is Vash looking up at Wolfwood, his brows furrowed and a slight frown. The bottom half of the page is a wider shot with Vash's body turned away from the viewer as he says, "I'm not going to talk about it." Wolfwood responds, "You don't have to." as he sits down.
A wide panel of Wolfwood holding the shotglass, pouring in the drink as he continues, "I'll talk." The next panel is a profile view of Wolfwood, his eyes looking down at the now filled shotglass as he continues to say, "You're..."
"... upset with me." Vash can be seen next to this speech bubble with narrowed eyes, looking towards Wolfwood. The panels are all coated in with a dark blue background. Wolfwood continues, "I can't be certain why since yer not telling me a thing -- but it's probably... my bad." The panels show Wolfwood about to bring the shotglass to his mouth but he turns way as he continued to speak, his eyes not on Vash. The bottom page shows him looking away completely with a guilty expression as he says, "I'm sorry.
If you can ever tell me why, I can try and adjust to make it more bearable. But if you're just trying to get rid of me--" The panels follow Wolfwood's certain expression as he says this, "I don't intend to leave you. I can't... and I won't." A panel shows Vash's wide-eyed expression, surprised upon hearing this, and then his eyes soften as Wolfwood again concludes with, "I'm sorry."
Vash's inner thoughts begins, a boxed speech at the center of the page and panels of his eyes, his brows furrowing again and a resigned, but frustrated expression. His thoughts starts, "Stop. I shouldn't be happy hearing that. And why are you apologizing? I should be the one to..! I can't let anything like that happen to you. You deserve to live a long steady and peaceful life. I want to be optimistic. I want to protect you, but I might end up doing the opposite." The text surrounds Wolfwood from Vash's perspective, the other man drinking out of his shotglass, his eyes downcasted.
"I shouldn't have you. And you won't leave." Behind these text is a panel of Wolfwood's eyes finally looking over to Vash. Vash's thoughts continues, "It's so unfair." When Wolfwood sees Vash, his eyes soften and he frowns. The last panel shows the lower half of Vash's face, but tears begins to flow down his cheek. Wolfwood's hand is already reaching to wipe at them as he starts to say, "You know..."
A wider shot of Vash and Wolfwood, Vash slightly leaning forward with his mouth tightly shut, and tears steadily continuing to flow out of his closed eyes. Wolfwood continues to wipe at them with his hand as he continues, "This isn't a dream anymore. I don't know what you saw for you to be this shaken up, but whatever happened, you'll overcome it, right? If not you, I'm here too. You'll be okay, Spikey. So..." Wolfwood's expression grows more tender, "Have a little faith in me... and come back already." The dark blue starts to fade.
The wide panel has the dark blue background faded and replaced is the light pink. It shows Vash in full up to his shoulders, his eyes are still tears littered, but there's light in them as he says, "Wolfwood..." making eye contact with the other. The next panel shows Wolfwood's tender expression, his eyes and brows fully soften and he has a small smile on his lips, finally seeing the other return a level of sincerity with him.
The next panel shows the bottom half of Wolfwood's face and his hand is offered towards Vash for a dance as he says, "C'mon. We don't have to talk, but this is okay, right?" The background is now white and a ribbon flowing across the page separates this panel from the next sequence. Vash's inner thoughts continus, "I've spent too long avoiding this. It's scary to want after I've taken so much from others." A sequence close up of their hands is shown, with Wolfwood's outstretched hand on the right and Vash's reaching hand on the left. Vash gently places his hand in Wolfwood and at the bottom, Wolfwood wraps his fingers across Vash's.
Throughout the page, a dark blue ribbon starts to flow around the both of them with confetti raining alongside the effect. Vash and Wolfwood are hand and hand, dancing together with Wolfwood as the lead. The viewer can see a peak of Vash's expression, full of fondness but also a hint of sorrow as he looks down at Wolfwood. His inner thoughts continue, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. But why is that even though I have these burdens, I still want to love you. I still want you to be by my side."
With a close up of their mouths, Vash's thoughts continue, the text covering his mouth, "Wolfwood, I--" Wolfwood's speech bubble covers Vash's text as he completes his sentence, "want you." Vash's eyes widen for one panel and in the next, his eyes spark, a blush appearing on his cheek and the confetti flows and spark. Tears ease up on his eyes again.
"Want me too already, Spikey." Wolfwood has leaned in enough to rest his head against Vash, a hand of his on Vash's neck, holding his nape and another hand pressed gently against his back. A ribbon separates this panel from the next, a mix of confetti flows across the page, as Vash envelopes Wolfwood in a hug too, holding him and his hand gripping tightly onto his back.
This page is just the ribbon flowly throughout the page on the white background, one white ribbon and the other a dark blue. Near the bottom, the ribbon envelopes each other in a loop. A conversation of Vash and Wolfwood is held over these ribbons, Vash starting to say, "What if I hurt you? What if you..?" Wolfwood responds, "You? How could you hurt me?" Vash, "You know what I mean... You see it everyday..." Wolfwood responds, "If you think I'm going to kick the bucket so easily, I suggest you look at me more closely from now on, idiot. I'm not that easy to get rid of."
The next page has the ribbon criss cross over the top of the page. Vash and Wolfwood can be seen in their dancing position again, Wolfwood now resting a hand on Vash's shoulder, as Vash takes the lead. Vash continues, "Well, I know that... I tried." Wolfwood responds, "But you won't anymore... since you want me... around, yeah?" Wolfwood's head cocks to the side, smiling with assurance, cheeks flushed. Vash looks at him with a wide smile and fond, loving eyes. The confetti flows across the bottom of this page and as it eases into the next page, it starts to disappear.
Vash responds, ".. Yeah... I do..." as he pulls Wolfwood into a hug again. Wolfwood says, "Not going to run away anymore, are you?" Vash says, "No... I trust you." A panel shows Wolfwood's turning away slightly with a shy expression, muttering "Geez..."
In a more simplified style, Wolfwood is seen gripping Vash's cheeks now with his hand, "Though... You do remember you avoided me for two weeks straight, right? How are you going to make that up to me?" Wolfwood asks. Vash responds with eyes closed and a pucker of his lips. A vein of irritation appears on Wolfwood's face. Wolfwood starts to squeeze at Vash's cheek with both hands, shouting, "Now that you've recovered, you're trying to be funny, huh?!" Vash says through the squished cheeks, "I'm just happy..."
The next page opens with a closed up panel of Vash's widen eye as Wolfwood's hand moves from squishing his cheeks to gently holding them and Wolfwood leans in. The inner thoughts starts again, "There's a chance I'm not making the right choice... My dreams, my fears of losing you, it will never go away. But you said you won't let it happen... And I want to hang onto your words closely this time. After all, if it's anyone who can make me believe, it's you." The white ribbon from previous pages flows across the page and it visibly ends at the bottom of the page, enclosing the two of them as they share a gentle kiss with Vash holding Wolfwood's face, a tear in his eye.
The next pages starts with Wolfwood saying, "You cryin' again?" Vash responds, "I'm just grateful..." Wolfwood responds, "But you've always had me." Vash responds, "Being like this is different from staring at you from behind all the time though..." The two can be seen together again, Wolfwood pressing his elbows against the table with Vash leaning over him. Wolfwood is easing the tears out of Vash's eye again, just like earlier. A close panel of Vash's fond expression is seen as he says, "Thank you, Wolfwood." Wolfwood looks up at him with a small smile, gentle eyes. Confetti starts to flow lightly across the page as text starts to appear against the white background, "I'm the one who's grateful...
That you'd embrace someone like me, when I'm not fit to hold you in the first place... But I know better than to hesitate. The moment I acknowledged it, I knew I'd spend the rest of my life loving you. So, have as much of me as you want, Vash."
The final page shows the confetti gently falling down the page and at the bottom shows Vash and Wolfwood pressing their foreheads together, Wolfwood's hands cupping the side of Vash's face gently, and both of them smiling brightly with each other. ID END]
#vashwood#trigun#trigun maximum#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#its done.... after 2 months.... collapses on the ground#theres a lot of things i would prob change about this but. its so sappy that it makes me a little happy where it ended up#they deserve a little sap too!!! and in the end this is the closest they could get to a first confession#through want! want in each other's life and company since they both have this strained relationship with keeping people permanent in their#lives... and the people or things that are tied to them in the long term tend to be something that harms them.#and as the saying goes -- good things never last! and im sure they prob gave up trying to find a good thing for a long time#vash managed to be found after the moon accident and got his good thing for a bit but even he prob knew itd come to an end eventually#ironically it was wolfwood that ended it. but he really just planted smth new for vash... and now they have some security#or at least vash does. or at least just for this one moment#a moment of bliss and feeling like they are deserving of love is so Fluctuating for vashwood#and ultimately i think wolfwood could only push onwards to initiate because he sensed there was smth vash wanted. and its just#naturally in wolfwood to give to those that he love#but anyway anyway.... i like to think in a sweet universe -- they had the chance to confess like this and got a little bit of time to#enjoy and share their company in this manner. to be a little less restrained and love each other freely#ruporas art
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I think chapter 2 of TriMax Volume 6 might just be my favorite thus far. Everything in it hinges on this one iconic scene.
This isn't the first time Wolfwood has pointed a gun at Vash's head. Maybe it won't even be the last. But it holds a bit more weight here because just a few pages ago, we saw a flashback where Wolfwood pointed his gun at someone else's head.
His hand shakes as he aims at Knives. His breath is heavy, and the memory of the Fifth Moon incident is fresh in his mind. He knows if he can just pull the trigger, he can end it here. This being of destruction will be gone, and maybe this time his fancy scientists won't be able to bring him back.
But then Knives does Plant things, and under the weight of it Wolfwood finds he just can't follow through. He fears his own death too much, and Knives will surely kill him.
When he points his gun at Vash, it's different. His hand is steady, his breath calm. The memory of everything that happened at the Dragon's Nest is fresh in his mind; just this morning he warned Meryl that she and Milly should remember that, despite his ideals, Vash is still a loose cannon that they'd do well to avoid. He thinks to himself that if he can just pull the trigger, if he can just take out the less intimidating of the brothers, then one of these monstrous twins and half of the problem will be gone.
This time, there's no crushing sensation of oppression. There's no air of fear and malice. There are no threats or memories of twisted promises. There's only a look, wary and concerned...
...but even by the time this happens, Wolfwood has already lowered his gun. He's decided not to pull the trigger, not because of an immediate threat on his life, but because... well, it's Vash.
Wolfwood surely knows that if he pulls that trigger, he catastrophically fails his mission, and whatever consequences might await him on the far side of such a failure aren't going to be anywhere near pleasant. But it doesn't seem like it's fear of Knives that makes him lower his gun. At the very, very least, Wolfwood knows no one stands a better chance at taking down Knives, but he also knows Vash. He's seen Vash's fake smiles and knows his real ones. He understands Vash's ideals despite very much not wanting to and not knowing how he could possibly accept them for himself. He's fought side by side with Vash, and been standing at his back since day 1.
And before this night is out, only a few minutes after pulling a gun on Vash, Wolfwood's right back there again, moving in tandem with Vash, being a human shield so they can accomplish Vash's goals together.
It's only when the fight comes to a close that Wolfwood realizes that's what he's been doing. He didn't put any thought into falling in step behind Vash, didn't dwell on the fact that Vash trusted and moved with him during the fight. It's only afterwards, when they stop to catch their breath, that he realizes Vash hasn't looked his way through the whole battle. That Vash didn't need to look his way through the whole battle.
Not only did Vash trust Wolfwood at his back, but he knows Wolfwood well enough to move intuitively around him, not hesitating and always understanding what Wolfwood's about to do. And at that moment, Wolfwood realizes two things:
First, that there's no way Vash didn't notice when Wolfwood pointed a gun at him. If Knives could figure it out while half dead and barely knowing Wolfwood, then Vash, who's awake, alert, and has spent plenty of time with Wolfwood, can surely figure it out.
And second, that when he's fighting back to back with Vash, nothing else really matters. All his (quite legitimate) fears about what Vash is and how dangerous he can be, about Knives, about finishing his job, about what he himself has become... they all melt away. He's where he needs to be, where he should be, and that's all there is to it.
#vash the stampede#nicholas d. wolfwood#vashwood#(you don't have to ship them to see the connection between them here)#trigunbookclub#trigun maximum#volume 6#manga spoilers#manga analysis#character analysis#pancake thoughts
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hello! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is upset and crying (i wanted to originally ask if it could be a panic attack but i wasnt sure if you were comfortable with that) and vash is at a lost of how to help them so he just presses his forehead agaisnt theirs just like he does when he's helping plants and to his surprise it works?
The way I gasped when I read this I love this so much! I used to have panic attacks lol I don’t mind writing mild ones. Also sorry I haven't been posting much ;p; I've been slowly getting ready for my trip, and work has been something! I'll try to crank more out lol
‘I don't have much to say’
Vash x Reader
You're thankful to have some time to yourself, being in a cramped car with so many other people, good be suffocating, not that you didn’t mind the company for the most part…it was just a lot.
So, when Meryl said she was tired of driving and wanted to camp out for the night, you were the first to agree! Once camp had been set up, you can feel that overwhelming feeling. Not wanting to be a bother you mention you’re going for a quick walk, and that you won’t wander far.
Choosing to ignore the concerned look Vash gives you, instead leaving to head out into the dunes. Making sure to keep the camp at least in someone what sight, you managed to find a boulder heading to the other side for some privacy you sit in the sand.
Trying to count your breaths in and out, digging your hands in the sand to ground yourself, doing everything possible to not let your thoughts race. It’s hard to even know what set this off, it’s pathetic. With that thought you know your crying, placing your hands over your mouth to muffle the sobbing.
Not knowing how long you’ve been sitting out, your startled when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, breath hitching and looking up in surprise you’ve come face to face with Vash. He is on his knees beside you, a look of such concern in his eyes your mind registers his lips moving, but your ears are ringing so loud, feeling humiliated that he’s found you in such a weak state.
The thought makes you sob more, wrapping your arms around yourself to appear smaller, Vash’s eyes widen as he looks up you, unsure how to help, but wanting too so desperately. Your clearly in pain, and he doesn’t have a clue on what to do to help.
But Vash needs to help, it’s his nature so with a thought he reaches for you with gentle hands, cupping your face with one warm and one cool hand he touches his forehead to yours in such a gentle way you nearly forget how to breathe. His eyes are closed while yours are wide open.
“It’s okay I’m here” Vash says it’s so quietly you nearly miss it, having to steady your breaths, but the feeling of his hands on your face and him being so close is just so comforting that you close your eyes breathing in his scent. You don't know how long the two of you continue to sit there simply existing with each other.
It helps, more than you could ever imagine, pressing closer to Vash as you close your eyes. “Thank you.” You feel as if those words aren't enough, that you’ll never be able to describe the pure gratitude you have towards Vash at this moment. You feel Vash’s rub his thumbs over the top of your cheeks, the motion is smoothing and continues to help ground you.
“You don't need to thank me…whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” your breath hitches at his words, feeling his breath ghost over your lips, opening your eyes just to take a peek at his face, your surprises that his are now open and he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, his blue eyes so kind.
Your eyes soften looking at him, he pulls back a bit to place a kiss on your forehead before pulling you completely into his arms. You know all your problems aren’t solved, and you have your worries and anxieties, but you let yourself enjoy this moment here with Vash.
#trigun#trigun stampede#vash the stampede x reader#vash imgaine#vash imagines#vash x reader#vash the stampede#trigun x reader#trigun stampede imagine#trigun stampede x reader
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How about some Knives spicies👀
The not-cinnamon-role twin. The messed up one, well more messed up. But hot and therefore I can forgive him.
Pairing: Millions Knives x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, degradation, name-calling, spanking, praise, dacryphillia, breeding kink, marking, orgasm control, getting caught but not stopping
A/N: Vash is the gentle one, Knives is the rough one. If you have both you have the best of both worlds.
Knives sees you as the only human who's worthy of him, or at least worthy of being fucked by him, as long as you do as he says there's not gonna be any problems
And really how could you say no to him, you love him, you're surprisingly gentle with him despite the fact that he tells you he only thinks of you as someone who keeps his cock happy
You know that its not true, if that was all he wanted he could have any human, but he chose you, he cherishes you, he fucks you and only you
Not the least bit gentle when he slams his cock into you, the harder, the louder, the more you whimper the better the experience for him
The only world you're allowed to say without him telling you to is "no", everything else you'll get scolded for
You can't even beg, you don't get to ask for his cock, you just have to take it, that's all you're good for
The moment you open your mouth to beg he stops, he tells you to leave and doesn't so much as look at you for the rest of the day
If you can't even follow simple orders then what good are you to him, unless you wanted this punishment, in which case he sees you as even more pathetic
Regardless if you bruise easily or not, he will leave his marks on you
Is of the opinion that a slutty human pussy like yours looks the best when its filled to the brim with his cum so that's what he does almost every time
No he doesn't want to have kids with you, not yet, not until he makes the world just how he wants it, but until then he wants you to get used to the feeling of being stuffed with his cum
Part of him really wonders what you would look like when you're pregnant, he'll get to see it some day, he knows he will
Has you sucking his cock while he plays the piano, try to keep up
If he wants to he will have you try to play the notes while he fucks you from behind
Smacks your ass when you play the notes wrong so by the end of it you can't even sit properly, partially also because he kept smacking his thighs against you as well
Its very rare for him to do so but he has praised you, although usually its when he's laying next to you in bed, he doesn't need sleep but the act itself isn't the worst thing in the world
Very much of a dramatic show off
Even if some of his men interrupt he's happy to keep fucking your tight pussy, relishing in how it sounds when its being repeatedly hammered into by him and his men looking all pathetic, knowing they will never have you
#knives x reader#knives x you#knives smut#millions knives x reader#millions knives x you#millions knives smut#trigun stampede x reader#trigun stampede x you#trigun stampede smut#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun smut#trigun#millions knives#trigun stampede
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What It Is to "See" in Trigun
"You can really lose yourself in that blue sky... Ah... There I go again. Rem... It's silly, isn't it... that I'm still thinking about... how I want to show it to you."
The theme of sight, showing, and eyes comes up quite a lot in Trigun. This isn't exactly an in-depth analysis, more just an examination of what "seeing" really is, at least in the context of this manga.
A notable recurring thing that happens in many of Knives' scenes is the obscuring of eyes and faces, either others (Vash, usually) or his own.
[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum Volume 7. One is of young Knives, his hand obscuring most of his face. His thumb is bleeding from where he's bitten it, and it streaks blood next to his open left eye. The other is also of young Knives, his face shadowed dramatically. His right eye is closed and crying. His left is wide open, ringed in darkness and blood from where his thumb has trailed down his face. End ID.]
The obscuring of one eye in the scene where Knives decides to crash the ships makes it so he only looks through one of his eyes - or, like he is only seeing one perspective, or one side to things. Knives, in his fear and anger, blinds himself to seeing anything other than what he already expects. In the second image, he is torn between a closed crying eye and a wide open one, dragging blood down the side of his face. He chooses the path of blood over tears, and refuses to change this from this point on.
[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. A younger Legato leans over with a stricken expression. His right eye is obscured by his hair as tears spill from his right. End ID.]
As a bonus note, Legato's hair often conceals that same eye that Knives has obscured on himself, perhaps a visual representation of not only him also seeing only one path forward, but also that his path is one of devotion to Knives. Elendira's hair does much the same.
We also have the cult known as the Eye of Michael - "Eye", which counter to its name, actually blinds its disciples into again, only seeing one perspective - looking through only one eye. Half of Chapel's face is frequently shadowed. In the "shoot" scene, only Wolfwood's left eye is fully visible - as, even though he makes a definite point, he himself is genuinely rather hopeless at this point, only seeing one path and one perspective.
[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 2. From a slightly overhead perspective, Wolfwood pulls the gun Vash is holding and aims it at his own head. Only his left eye is visible. End ID.]
It's why it's pretty significant that we start to see both his eyes in Volumes 9 and 10, and why I think it matters that he died with his eyes open.
Livio and Razlo are interesting in this regard too. Split between the two eyes, Livio with his obscured right eye and Razlo with his exposed left. When Livio cuts his hair, his eye becomes more visible, like something of a balancing - but it doesn't end there. Throughout the fight against Elendira, when the two are working together, both their eyes can be seen. They even do a switch, with Razlo being shown on the right, and Livio on the left, as if to show, through their conversation, that they have learned to see each other's perspectives better, and work as a team - they have learned to "see through each other's eyes".
[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. The first is Razlo shown from the right, eye wide and grinning as he rushes forwards. The second is Livio shown from the left, sweating in exertion. End ID.]
Speaking of seeing through other's eyes, we have Hoppered and Meryl's unwilling vision of Vash's memories, which, while incredibly traumatic, also gave them a new perspective they otherwise couldn't have had. This moment is actually key for Meryl to understand Vash as a person on a deeper level, to communicate what she knows about him to others, and to understand why he felt like he had to do everything alone... so that she could make it clear that he no longer had to.
Meryl and Vash, in particular, share in that painful past, and have come to the same conclusion about it - things take time to heal, but it's always worth it to try, and to work with others to bring a brighter world about.
This "seeing the world through another's eyes" is a running theme all throughout the story, and it's the reason for the first quote at the beginning of this write-up.
[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 7. Young Vash stares, eyes wide, as Rem cries and says to him, "Let's see the world together, let's walk through it together. Because the world... I swear, it's not just full of worthless people." End ID.]
Vash doesn't just want Rem to see the beautiful blue sky, he wants to see it with her, because that was what he needed when he was a young kid, fresh from the trauma of discovering Tesla, and unable to see the good in the world all alone. He needed another perspective, someone who could show him something other than hopelessness and fear. Instead, he had to force himself to search for it alone.
When he wants to show Rem that blue sky, it's because he wants to show her he's found something worthwhile and good. Just like she promised. It's not all awful.
[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 10. Amidst two panels of Vash's outstretched hand and Wolfwood falling towards him, on a white background, he thinks "That's why, after everything's been said and done, I wanted to see tomorrow with him. Isn't that right... Wolfwood?" End ID.]
When he wants to "see" tomorrow with Wolfwood, it's a promise of sticking together and of continuing to offset each other's perspectives - they trust each other to be their other set of eyes that makes seeing the hope in the world, and other pathways and options and interpretations different from their own just that much easier. Vash sees a future and a hope outside of fighting Knives through Wolfwood, something he previously could not do.
[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 14. Ethereal looking feathers fall over a crowd of civilians, who look upwards at them with varying expressions of shock and curiosity. End ID.]
And when the Plants share their memories with humans, and the humans respond with tears, it's the ultimate culmination of what it is to "see" in Trigun - to see is to understand another's story and their personal plight.
To see is to understand is to hope for the better for yourself and for others, and that puts you on the path to slowly but surely healing. To making a change for the better, to finding that light in the dark. That blank ticket.
#storyrambles#i think this one got away from me guys. sorry if it doesn't make sense. sigh.#trigun#trimax#trigun spoilers#trigun meta#trigunbookclub#call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.
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First kiss and general kiss headcanons for Vash and Knives? If you wanna add Nick too you can, but i know you said 2 per request so its up to you! Wanna respect the ask box and rules!
Thank you friend! I hope youre well!
I hope you don't mind, but I made some of the kisses have a little bit of an nsfw piece to them.
Sorry if Knives' part seems OOC.
(Included Wolfwood because I love him too much to leave him out)
Vash
The first kiss was rather adorable. Looking up at the stars above and admiring the beautiful night sky, you were unaware of Vash watching you, admiring you. Then, when you turn around and see his smiling face, you both lean in and share your first kiss. The moment was magical, and it felt just right. All of those pent-up feelings for one another simply came bursting out.
He's a sucker for all types of kisses. Quick, little pecks to the cheeks or lips, or long and drawn-out kisses that usually end up in a brief session of making out. He does, however, have favorite places to kiss you. His kisses are usually quick, and he honestly doesn't mind PDA, however, if you're uncomfortable then he will cease immediately.
Your head or cheeks are his go to when in a hurry for something and he can't give a proper kiss. He will also kiss your head when cuddling or when he's in a soft mood, which is all the time.
Your lips are like a recharging station for him, which is why he loves kissing them after a long day, or if he's in a spicy mood. Those types of kisses are usually followed by a bit of lip nibbling.
Your thighs. It doesn't matter if it's the inner or outer part of them, they're soft and plush and he could kiss them all day if you'd let him, however, doing so will definitely rile him up a bit. Be prepared for that.
Your stomach. Loves trailing kisses up or down it because it makes you laugh due to how ticklish it is, and he loves it. This also gets him riled up, but only if you're in the mood for it. Otherwise, it's just kisses.
Knives
The first kiss was a very unexpected one. He allowed you to sit beside him as his brother used to whenever he played the piano. You listened to the lovely tune the keys produced as his fingers gently danced across them. He wasn't sure what got into him during this moment, but the gnawing desire to kiss you had been annoying him lately. You didn't expect him to kiss you when you looked up at him to compliment his piano skills, but you never complained. You're also the only human he likes in such a way, which is why the thoughts of kissing you plagued his mind for so long.
He's not the type for PDA a majority of the time, so most kisses have to refrain until the two of you are truly alone. He doesn't like an audience watching without his permission. His kisses are always sensual and slow, wanting to relish in the moment for as long as possible. Sometimes they can be a bit hungry as well, but that solely depends on the mood he's in.
The backs of your hands are a place he often kisses, and it's the one that causes the least amount of staring. Sometimes he'll prolong the kiss, being slow with it. If in a certain mood, he will even trail the kisses up your arm.
Your neck is another place he enjoys kissing. He likes the way you shudder under the touch of his lips when they press themselves to your neck, kissing that sweet spot that makes you moan. The noises you make are music to his ears and, as such, this always leads to something spicier.
It may come to a surprise when you learn he enjoys kissing your ankles, but it's not entirely what you think. He has no real interest in feet, however, when he has your legs hanging over his shoulders as he fucks you, he can't help but kiss the body part nearest to him, and he chose your ankles for that.
Your back is a very sensual spot for him to kiss. This typically happens after a spicy session, when the both of you are unwinding and enjoying each other's presence. He will make sure that you're asleep first before he softly kisses your back. The fact that you can be this vulnerable with him tugs strings he never knew his heart had, and he slowly learns to enjoy it.
Wolfwood
The first kiss with him was something he planned for, or at least tried to. Trying to find the right moment and mood to kiss you had been difficult, until one day where you just suddenly grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him towards you, smashing your lips together. Turns out he wasn't the only one planning on a kiss.
He gives no fucks when it comes to PDA, however, he will stop if it makes you uncomfortable. If you also give no fucks, hey, it all works out just fine then. His kisses are shameful, but oh so sweet and tender. He'll kiss you to annoy onlookers and make them either look elsewhere or walk away. He also makes a habit to kiss you at every opportunity he has. Before bed, after breakfast, after waking up, and especially if he saves you from disaster.
Your lips are the obvious place for him to kiss. His favorite thing to do is kiss you when you least expect it, or he'll catch your attention and then go in for a kiss. You're always left in a somewhat surprised state, but the smile on your lips is very telling for him.
Your neck is probably his second favorite spot to kiss. You make a lot of little noises when he does, especially when he sneaks a kiss to the side of it. Sometimes you moan, and oh boy, does that rile him up.
Your shoulders are another spot he likes to kiss. They have to be exposed, though, so this type of kiss is typically for either during a spicy session or after. He'll hold you close to him, your back flush against his chest when you suddenly feel his lips leaving kisses on your shoulder.
Your forehead is a tender place for him to kiss and is always during his softer moods. You could also just be sleeping and has the urge to just place a little kiss to your forehead. He can't help that it's such a sweet spot to kiss.
#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun vash#trigun stampede vash#vash the stampede#vash the stampede headcanons#vash headcanons#vash x reader#vash x you#vash x y/n#trigun knives#trigun stampede knives#millions knives#millions knives headcanons#millions knives x reader#millions knives x you#millions knives x y/n#trigun wolfwood#trigun stampede wolfwood#nicholas d wolfwood#nicholas d wolfwood headcanons#wolfwood x reader#wolfwood x you#wolfwood x y/n
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LOVE AND PEACE
SFW
vash [98/stampede] x reader
how you two show each other love [drabbles]
—————
vash is very aware of his scars, almost to a fault. he’s constantly covering up parts of himself to stave off any wandering eyes. it took a lot for him to open up to you about them. the best way though was showing your own. bullet wounds littered across your body from not being fast enough, or slashes of tender flesh from stopping a bar fight. but every time you talk about them you don’t have a glimmer of sadness. he giggles when you tell him “if you connect them they kind of look like a sand-worm”. it helps him with his own confidence
and confidence you give considering every moment you find a visible scar your jumping on him, tracing the raised flesh with your finger. “your absolutely beautiful” you keep muttering under your breath as you trace them before bed. it becomes harder for vash to think down on himself when every time he sees his scars he can only hear your voice.
you spend a lot of time holding his prosthetic arm, each time you turn his hand over you cant help but stare at the intricacies of it. “vash, you must have been blessed by an angle because your one amazing peace of art”, you say as a joke. but your corny compliments always make him red in the face. your favorite is to give him kisses on his hand and tell him your hear to save a prince.
at night in the hotel vash can’t help but keep his head in your chest. your going to have to become a back sleeper because that man cannot go to bed without your heartbeat. too hot to cuddle? don’t worry he’s slipping a hand under your shirt to at-least feel it through the night. don’t get mad at him when your wake up in a sweat since he always tends to climb back and hang on like a koala.
vash loves trying new foods with you and sharing his snacks. he sees a food stall? you can bet he’s running back with some for you and him. if he sees food you’ve had before, don’t worry he remembered your preference and order. if he gets a pack of donuts he always gets at least one in your favorite flavor.
vash does the worst corny hand signs. sometimes he will just look at you and just draw a heart in the air. you always react dramatically, saying you’ve been shot by cupid. however, when you do it back he turns red in the face and cant reply.
sometimes vash wakes up in the middle of the night. he knows he’s tired and needs to get back to bed, but he stares at your face as your sleep away the night, content with being next to him.
sometimes he will nuzzle his head against yours. its a habit from being a plant, but you don’t mind. when you have really serious conversations or are taking a moment to check in with each other, you’ll sometimes find yourself butting heads (litterally). it seems to calm him down.
vash is downright the most handsy man that has every existed. not in a sexual way, but this man has to have a point of contact with you. walking next to you? his arm is around your waist. he needs a nap? wow look at those thighs, he’s all of a sudden found a pillow! the night is the worst, its like his arms have a mind of their own as they snake around your waist and his leg nestles between yours.
if your having a particularly bad day, he will lay down with you, humming rem’s lullaby into your crook of your neck. the calm beat allows you to calm your own racing heart.
#goreguttdrabbles#vash x reader#vash x you#trigun fic#trigun vash#trigun 98#trigun stampede#vash the stampede
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Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)
Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.
A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo!
This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe
Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!!
Cross-posted to my AO3 <3
Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 3.1k
Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction.
You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner.
Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done.
You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.
“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand.
You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls.
“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing.
You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.”
He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.”
Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action.
“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up.
As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside.
You know what comes next.
Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.
“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.”
“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides.
Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone.
You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one.
You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do.
You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour?
You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in.
It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets.
You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does!
That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected.
Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction.
You couldn’t disagree more.
Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch.
You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying?
You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort.
You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed.
You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly.
The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated.
“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child.
“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders.
“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously.
“If it happens again, it’s your head.”
It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something.
But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go.
All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough.
You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit.
It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men.
Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside.
Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving.
You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst.
The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.
You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat.
You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern.
You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target.
Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament.
Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster.
You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice.
You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous.
Time to go!
The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something.
“Get back here! You bitch!”
You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.
He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child.
Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up.
“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens.
He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring.
“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you.
“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.”
“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that.
He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?”
You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him.
You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here.
Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself.
Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring.
Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious .
“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling.
The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint..
“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale.
Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling.
“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.”
You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now.
Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?
“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet.
Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you.
“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest.
You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained.
“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding.
“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again.
You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-”
The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed.
You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway.
“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly.
The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you.
“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair.
A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand.
“Come help me find my mommy!”
#trigun#vash#vash the stampede#vash the stampede x reader#vash x reader#trigun 98#trigun stampede#peachy writes!
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I just adore your blog! Something about it and your imagines are just so sweet and homey 🥺 Could I please request some headcanons for Vash, Woowoo and Knives with a reader who loves to draw and is really passionate about it? I mostly have general sketching/figure studies in mind but you can do whatever is easiest for you! I hope that you have a good day and your blog continues to prosper <3
Thank you for the compliment 🥺!!! I'm so glad it feels homey. I try to make things like a home here... after all I LIVE HERE... thank you I hope to keep this blog going for a while after trying to revive it like twice before!
I think this request is so cute, I'm an artist too (have been for like, over a decade ^_^) so I've got lots of ideas in that aspect. I tried to keep to general sketching/traditional stylings of art but I think a lot of these can be applied to other art areas too!!
Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives x Reader: Artistry
Content Warnings: None! Reader doesn't have a specified gender, and some parts of the imagines are a little romance-oriented but this could also be interpreted as a strong friendship. Also this is my first mutli x reader so I hope the formatting's alright. No version was in mind for any of these so take them as you will!
Vash
Oh, he is definitely excited about this.
Vash is a bit of an artist, himself. He can do those super-complex technical drawings, and he really likes making art of machinery and stuff like that. There's a lot of diagrams of his arm lost in a notebook somewhere.
He loves to see your style and interpretation of the things around you. Seeing the world through your eyes, even for just a moment, is like heaven to him.
If you ever give him some of your art as a gift, he keeps it hung up on a wall or wherever he can stay for a while. (If he's in a more permanent place, his walls are covered in your art. He just loves it that much.)
The ones that are most special to him, he likes to keep in his pockets, so he can look at them whenever he needs a morale boost. Like, this is what he's fighting for: a world full of love and peace, a world that's able to keep creating beautiful art like this for years to come.
One day, the two of you get to draw each other as a sort of practice. Seeing each other through the others' eyes... again, it feels like a dream. Vash draws all the parts of you that you weren't always confident about with such care that you feel truly loved by him in that moment.
Wolfwood
"Oh, yer an artist? ... Can ya draw me?"
Yes he will absolutely pull that stunt at least once or twice, if only to get a hilarious dirty glare out of you. If you do actually take him up on this, he might let out a nervous "Haha... I mean, ya didn't have ta' do it, but..." He'll be really charmed.
Though his hands are strong and nimble from doing all those flippant tricks with the Punisher, he's entranced with the way you're able to use yours to create, to draw.
He's always sneaking you extra supplies, like pens, pencils, and paper, whenever you least expect it. You never have to ask for any of those things anymore, or even shop for them--they just happen upon your desk whenever you think you're running low.
One day, he takes a piece of your paper and a pen and doesn't let you see what he's doing until he's all done. He's a little dodgy about showing you, eventually he does. It's a crude scribble of the two of you, though you can tell he really put his all into it.
It's your most prized possession, and you give him a big hug for it.
Knives
Much like Vash, he's actually an artist himself--but doesn't really call himself one, rather saying that he's... capable of copying something he's seen part-for-part. So, his drawings are more like pictures or prints. They're exact. Eerily so.
The art that you make gets a half-hearted snort of approval from Knives, which is basically one of the highest praises he can offer in his own sort of language.
Though normally he'd want to give some sort of unwarranted criticism for a drawing looking wonky or off, he saves you from it. He doesn't want to break your passion--but he's not going to admit that outright.
If you do ask for criticism, though, he's very thorough while keeping you on the road to improvement. If you're studying a specific style, he's reading up on it. If you're trying new materials, he's making sure you have all the tools necessary for it.
And speaking of materials, he's able to secure uncommon colors and rare tools for you to use for art. He's making sure that everything you create is of the highest quality.
One day, you drew a portrait of him and presented it to him as a gift. He gave out that little snort of approval and maybe even a a tiny "Thanks..." as he wandered off. He secretly keeps it close to look at it in his private time, tracing his fingers over the ink marks and recalling your movements.
#vash x reader#wolfwood x reader#knives x reader#vash the stampede x reader#nicholas d. wolfwood x reader#millions knives x reader#trigun x reader#galactifics#love mail#Anonymous
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Thoughts on Vash seeking out physical touch pls?
Like his eyes trailing over your waist as he imagines how you’d feel in his hands, the weight of you perhaps comforting.. or how your breath would feel against his skin, how warm you’d be, etc
✦- Vash x gn. reader
✦cw. none that I can think of, just some touch starved content
✦note. I'm so mentally ill over him, I love him to bits an piece the thoughts are endless with this I swear!! 98 vash was in my mind when I wrote this but it could be perceived as 23 vash as well. Thank you for the request chris!! I had lots of fun writing it
✦word count- 1k
••
•There is without a doubt that he is so unbelievably touch starved, he’s been around for such a long time and has been on the run which obviously has left little to no room for him to become close to someone on a level close to romanticity. Well at least that was the case until he met you, a kind soul that didn’t think he was all the rotten things that were being spoken about him and wasn’t afraid to voice it when those harsh words got into the blonde’s head. That had been months ago now since his first meeting with you and when worse came to turn you set out beside him on his travels to the next towns he walked towards despite his multiple attempts to get you to not travel with him.
•And with those travels sometimes came cheap shared inn rooms and shared beds after the two of you continuously fought over who got the bed but disagreeing when the other said they would take the floor and use their sleeping bag. Those nights left the blonde wide awake from the proximity of both your bodies, but mainly the gentle breath’s he felt hit him while you slept and the way your hand would reach out to take hold of his own in the midst of slumber and gently stroke his knuckles with your thumb. Days after that those moments replay endlessly in his mind wondering what it could possibly feel like to hold you in his grasp while the two of you slept peacefully in another rickety hotel bed. He’d aimlessly wondered if you had ever shared his same thoughts too after a long tiring trip across the blazing desert to the next closest town, the constant light brush of your hand against his keeping the endearing thoughts running rampant in his frazzled brain.
•Vash’s thoughts are soon answered though when late one night when the two of you were in separate rooms for safety reason after a particularly dangerous situation involving a group of very angry gunman that tried to use you as leverage to get him to give himself up, your tired form slinking into his room in the dead of night and gently nudging him awake, asking if it was okay if you stayed with him instead of being alone. There’s an instant yes from him before he moves over and holds the dusty comforter up for you to crawl in beside him, your arms instantly wrapping around his middle in a bone crushing hug while you buried your face into his shirt leaving the blonde to keep his hands in the air not knowing what to do with them until you quietly tell him to hold you, which he gladly does, an arm wrapping around you in a gently embrace while the other slowly brushed through the back of your hair in attempt to calm you down the best he could.
•There’s no questions asked after that night from either of you and no more fighting over the bed, you now wordlessly wrapping his arms around you when the two of you laid down at night to sleep. During the nights spent under the stars your usual two sleeping bags are now joined together as one giant one to keep the cold out so you two would stay warmer but in all honesty you both had it in your minds that the real reason was because you didn’t want to sleep without the other. Vash admittingly tells you that he really enjoys being able to hold you close when the two of you sleep because it brings him a strong sense of comfort that he hasn’t really felt before and that he knows that you’d be safe in his arms while you slept the night away.
•At some point down the road the two of you eventually become an item after a very very long talk late one night about what being in a relationship with vash would be like to him, how it was much different from what the two of you had going on before and what it could possibly lead to in the future. And from that Vash finally tells you the truth about him and the reason why he was on the run and had such a high bounty, it leaves you a little stunned but nonetheless you tell him that it doesn’t change at all how you feel about him and you reassure him for however long it takes, you having him lay on you while you give him heartfelt affirmations all the while you run your fingers through his blonde hair and leave kisses along the crown of his head. He ends up drifting asleep to the sound of your heartbeat that night, the rhythmic thumps sounding like a ever so sweet lullaby to his ears.
•During the blonde’s darkest moments when everything seems to have gone worse for turn, the nights where he would spend long hours in the bathroom so as not to bother you, they are now spent in your arms on a rickety inn bed. When he voices to you that he feels as if nothing around him is real and that he doesn’t deserve the kindness that he’s received, you're there to ground him in the best way that you can, carefully pressing your weight onto him as you lay on his chest and tell him that everything is in fact real and that he deserves every bit of kindness that is given to him. You let him soak your night shirt in tears that he’s had to keep hidden for so long, and when sobs begin to wrack his body that he can no longer keep silent you press soft kisses to the apples of his cheeks and wipe away his tears with your thumbs. The press of your lips brings him a sense of calm, the plush warm softness making him sigh as his eyelashes flutter to a close.
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!!nsfw, minors + blank/ageless blogs dni, will be blocked!!
cw: hate sex but w feelings, frenemies to lovers, fingering, oral f!receiving, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie, oddly intimate aftercare, what is happening, no one is in touch w their feelings :') modern au i guess??
sequel to this :)
knives is relieved to find that when he removes his headphones, the apartment is quiet.
he stands from his bed and peeks his head out of his door, doubly relieved to see the dark hallway, silence enveloping the space - an improvement from its rambunctious state just hours prior, in his opinion.
he doesn't bother turning any lights on or making an effort to stay quiet, though he hardly makes any noise to begin with. it's just that he doesn't care to be cautious in case he wakes any of you up, wherever each of you had chosen to pass out for the night; he still doesn't understand why vash insists you all overstay after drinking and encroach on his sacred space - their sacred space, but it happens so often that he assumes you're all still there somewhere without even seeing physical confirmation.
he supposes he could say something to vash, but he can't bring himself to when it clearly makes his brother that happy to be with you all.
knives makes his way to the kitchen with ease, hands shoved into his hoodie and eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. he gets himself a glass of water and leans against the corner of the counter as he sips, eyebrow twitching in irritation when he hears someone grunt in their sleep out in the living room, the sound followed by continued steady, heavy breaths.
of course.
he just hopes everyone's gone by the morning.
knives finishes up, and just as he's about to move to place his glass in the sink, he hears the undeniable click of a door unlatching.
he sighs so deeply at the possibility of whoever it could be initiating a conversation with him in the middle of his kitchen at three o'clock in the morning, he thinks he feels it in his soul.
what he doesn't expect is for it to be you, coming out of vash's room.
your hair is mussed, and you're rubbing at your eyes, feeling your way into the kitchen in the dark. he doesn't know why, but his chest tightens, jaw clenching - he assumes it's from annoyance.
knives can see you clearly from where he stands, leaning back against the counter next to the sink once more, empty glass in his hand, suddenly unsure of what to do. you're near the only way in and and out of the kitchen, and if he left now, he'd still have to pass you, and lord only knows what kind of smartass remarks you'd have to say about him being in his own kitchen in the middle of the night. his brows furrow in irritation just at the thought of it.
and he'd rather not know why you were coming from his brother's room, looking rumpled and groggy and wearing one of his t-shirts, but somehow he can't help but wonder, and it makes him glower.
and then he recognizes that it isn't vash's shirt you're wearing. it's his own.
for some reason he doesn't quite understand, his breath hitches at the realization, and it happens before he can stop himself.
it's that soft sound that alerts you to his presence on your way to the cupboard, and you whip your head up to the source, eyes suddenly wide and clear, and though you startle, to your credit you don't make any additional noise.
"what the fuck?!" you whisper-shout, just as he asks, "why are you still here?"
you glare at each other for a moment, sizing each other up, irritation glinting in your eyes.
until you seem to think better of it, shaking your head with an annoyed huff before continuing with what you were doing. you turn your nose up petulantly and don't acknowledge him any further as you take your own glass, navigating your way around his kitchen as if it were your own.
it irks him, to say the least.
knives doesn't like you at the best of times, when you seem to be constantly going out of your way to go against everything he says and does and sometimes even just thinks - but he likes it even less when you put on that indifferent act, as if you're too precious and powerful to even acknowledge his presence. he hates it. who do you think you are?
"why are you still here?" he repeats through gritted teeth, unmoving even as you brush past him to fill up your own glass with water.
you smell like his brother; you must have been sleeping in his bed with him, doing god knows what else.
knives wrinkles his nose.
even in the dark he can see you roll your eyes, and a spark of hot displeasure lights up in his chest. "why do you think, genius?"
knives isn't sure why his stomach lurches. he tries not to think about the implication, you coming from his brother's room, you in what you'd probably assumed were his clothes, unknowing who they truly belonged to.
before he can stop himself, he's in your space again, ducking close to your face to speak low, deep voice barely a whisper. he's not above intimidating you to protect his brother. "look, i don't want to know what you're doing with my brother, but if you ever, ever even think about-"
"what the fuck is your problem with me?!" there's that spitfire of anger in your face he's so familiar with, in the tone of your voice even though you're whispering, too. it gives him a sick kind of satisfaction he's not willing to address. "it's not even like that!" you unconsciously step closer into his space, too, until you're nearly bumping foreheads. "vash isn't like you. he's sleeping on the couch with nic - he gave me and meryl his bed to share, not that it should matter to you, you miserable bastard."
knives is rarely, if ever, left speechless.
something like relief sprouts in his chest, though he isn't sure why.
and then your other words sink in, and he's annoyed again. how do you know what he's like? you don't know him at all, and it's a lie to say you know vash as well as he does, someone who's been by his side all his life. it matters to him because vash is his brother, his one and only, and he needs to protect him as much as he's able.
"you need to stop letting vash drink so much." he doesn't know why vash insists on these get-togethers nearly every week - you all see each other practically every day, if vash can help it, and knives doesn't understand how drinking and playing board games can be that fun when you do it so often.
"he's an adult, in his own home, he can make his own decisions. you're way too overprotective." your annoyance doesn't let up, so neither does his glare. "are you jealous or something?"
jealous? do you even know the meaning of the word? you think he's jealous, when all he wants is to keep his brother safe? you may be even less smart than he'd initially thought.
knives doesn't reply, he knows this could go on for a while, and he'd much rather go back to bed and forget he'd ever seen you tonight, with your hair sleep-mussed and your eyes droopy with sleepiness yet glittering in the little bit of light from the street lamp shining through the window, the fabric of his shirt hanging off your shoulders. he can already feel the headache you always seem to induce in him creeping in at the edges of his consciousness.
he steps forward to lean over you and set his empty glass in the sink, subsequently making you step back with him, until your lower back presses into the edge of the counter.
his breath hitches again when he realizes how close you are, yet neither of you move for what feels like an eternity.
it surprises him that he isn't uncomfortable with the lack of space between you. you're warm, and underneath the smell of vash, there's something soft and pleasant that makes him feel light. his heart starts to race, and his frown deepens at that. you seem just as lost in thought, your brows scrunched together, eyes roiling with a mix of emotions he isn't sure he wants to explore.
and then it happens so suddenly that he doesn't know who moved first.
but then he decides it doesn't matter much, when your lips feel that soft against his, that sweet - shocking for someone who spouts such venom at him.
you break apart just as quickly, so quick he wonders if it happened at all, or if it was just lack of sleep catching up to him and making him hallucinate, because there's just no way he would let that happen, no way you - you who finds him just as deplorable as he does you, he thinks - would ever let that happen.
and even more surprising still, you do. again.
there's a split second where you're staring at each other, and then another where you're abandoning your glass on the counter, water sloshing past the rim in your haste, and grabbing at the thick fabric of his hoodie across his chest and hauling yourself up to his height to kiss him again, and the slowly growing aggression of it all makes him nearly growl, a desperate sort of sound rasping deep from his throat.
it's less of a kiss and more of a fight for dominance, which is so like your strained dynamic that it makes him smirk between the small, quick nips of your teeth, the slide of your tongue across his lips and past them, the nudge of your noses together when he doesn't let you in so easily.
knives watches with amusement through heavily lidded eyes and lets you take over, just for a moment, just so he can see you - only out of curiosity. his fingers clutch at your waist, savor the warmth of your skin coming through your stupid shirt that you likely don't know is his; he can't deny enjoying the desperate, feverish way you move, the sour look previously on your face melting into determination, desire.
how sweet, and he'd never known.
just as you pull back for breath, he bites at your bottom lip, shivering when you let out an uncharacteristic whine.
oh, he likes that.
his hand comes up to the nape of your neck, large enough to stroke the edge of your jaw with his thumb simultaneously. he studies your face for a moment, the lustful glitter in your eyes contrasted so nicely by the wrinkle of your brow, as if you're angry at yourself for doing what you'd just done, for giving in and wanting it - the wet mauve of your lips slightly swollen from use, the heat in your cheeks.
have you always been this pretty? have you been holding out on him?
knives decides then that it's his turn.
wordlessly he cradles the back of your head in his hand, tilting you up for him so he can kiss you even deeper before you can even fully catch your breath. he nips at you again before sliding his tongue into your open mouth, swirling it around your own, teasing. he licks and nips at you until you're pliant, like putty in his hands, slumping back against the sink behind you with a pleasured sigh. he can admit he gets carried away, bites at the plush of your bottom lip a little harder than he means to, but the sweet little whine that escapes from you, the instinctive tug at the roots of his stark blonde hair, makes it all worth it. you pull just as hard as he'd bitten, and it thrills him.
he slots himself between your legs easily, lifts you up onto the counter just as simply, making you pull away to gasp at the swift movement.
"knives-" you start, and he can hear confusion in your voice, trepidation, though it's barely above a whisper.
despite himself, despite the alarms alerting him in the back of his mind that he doesn't like you, he can't stand you - hates you, even - despite your well-known history of constantly butting heads and making each other miserable - the feeling of wanting you in this moment overwhelms him, pushes everything else to the wayside and all but consumes him. he feels like he's burning from head to toe to touch you, to taste you, to hear the pleasured little sounds you make that he'd never even thought to examine just before.
this is bad, he thinks.
and then you cut yourself off with a gasp when his desire wins out and his lips travel down your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses down the line of it, grazing his teeth along your skin, and he thinks instead that it can most certainly be worse.
if he lets himself have you this one time, just this once, nothing else has to change.
right?
you spare him the luxury of thinking when you spread your knees wider and pull him closer between them, your ankles crossing at the small of his back, locking him in and making his decision for him. pure heat zips through him, and he's assured you feel it too when you arch to roll your hips against his arousal, earning a pleased gasp.
"knives...?" you whisper again, and he loves how winded you sound, how overwhelmed. but there's a silent question there, it's in your eyes too when he trails his lips back up to look at you again, your arms resting on the broad line of his shoulders.
he dips to kiss you once more, but is interrupted by another distant, sleepy groan from the living room, and he's reminded of where you are, what you're doing out in the open where any of your and vash's stupid friends could walk in on at any given time.
it excites him.
clearly you don't agree. you pause for a moment, then seem to make a decision for yourself. "your room," you demand quietly, almost shy, and it's so uncharacteristic of you that it gives him pause, too.
and for the first time ever, it seems, knives complies without a smartass retort.
you cling to him as he blindly navigates you both through the kitchen and back to his room, leaving heated open-mouthed kisses down from his jaw to his neck, nuzzling down into the soft fabric of his hood in search of more of his skin. your touch scorches him, he thinks, his fingers twitching on your thigh and the small of your back as he supports you easily with your legs still wrapped around the taper of his waist.
it occurs to him that he has never utilized his strength in this way, and it sparks something carnal hidden deep in his brain.
he thinks he accidentally slams his door, but neither of you seem to heed any other precautions once you're inside his room (it wouldn't be too far off from his normal behavior anyway). he shoves you up against the door, and you find the hem of his hoodie and push it up his body just as roughly, until he pulls it off in one swift motion, and you're on him again, kissing him until you have to gasp for air. when you pull away, panting, he can't help but notice your gaze lingering on his torso, fingers smoothing along the thick, corded muscle of his shoulders and upper arms in what can only be appreciation, and something like pride bursts in his chest.
and then you're using the door as leverage to push yourself up higher against him, elbows on his shoulders, until you're looking down at him, smirking.
knives isn't sure if he likes the way you're looking at him now, staring deep into his eyes and smiling like you know something he doesn't, like he's somehow proven something you'd known all along.
as if he's playing right into your hands.
and he has never, and will never, lose to you.
knives turns and drops you down onto the middle of his bed, and though your lips are still parted in that irritating smirk, you do him the favor of taking your (his) shirt off, leaning back on your elbows with an eyebrow cocked as if in a silent challenge.
he notices for the first time that you hadn't been wearing shorts or a bra underneath, leaving you in your underwear, and the sight before him makes heat zip straight down to his groin.
no matter how much he thinks he's always disliked you, he knows you're beautiful. there's always a sparkle in your eyes, of something he can't quite place, that shines the most when you're with vash and your stupid friends, your smile that's never been directed at him, that usually falls at the sight of him.
you're smiling now, though - not in the way he particularly likes, but of course it still looks good on you. of course.
"take a picture, pretty boy, it'll last longer."
knives doesn't know how long he'd been staring, but he snaps to attention and stubbornly doesn't address the flush rising to his cheeks. if he refuses to be humiliated there's no way he can be.
did you call him pretty?
he knees onto the bed between your legs and you meet him halfway when he leans in, tugging him down and weaving your fingers into his hair. he can't deny how good it feels when your soft fingertips scrape lightly against his scalp, when you pull gently at the strands when his hips slot perfectly along yours and you gasp into his mouth at the hard heat of him against your center.
one elbow beside your head to hold himself over you, he grinds his hips down experimentally, his other hand grasping your thigh against his waist. he grunts at the sweet friction even with the layers still between you, at the way your shoulders jerk back just a little on instinct, another sharp breath parting your pretty lips.
"knives," you breathe against his cheek when he shifts to kiss your jaw, nip at your earlobe, "touch me."
oh.
to your credit you aren't begging, and usually he would make fun of you for seeming so pitiful (though your tone is nothing short of demanding), but somehow he can't bring himself to in the moment.
because god, does he truly want to touch you.
he pulls back a little to free his hands, glancing at you for just a moment before drifting down to your neck and letting his hands wander. he isn't sure he can look at your face for too long right now; he won't admit how afraid and uncertain he is of the torrent of emotion making his chest tight. not with you, not right now.
for the second time that night, he does as you say without another word. he trails his lips down your neck, pausing between your breasts just as his hands come up to cup at them, kneading gently and pinching lightly at your nipples. he moves to twist his tongue around one, then the other, kissing and nipping at the supple flesh until he's satisfied and you're arching into his touch, just on the verge of whining (too stubborn to just yet), until one hand slides further down your body to slip beneath the waistband of your underwear.
the thin fabric is beyond soaked, and that fact pleases him to no end. he has a mouthful of your chest when he brushes over your clit, and that's when you finally whine, fingers twitching in his snowy hair.
the sweet little sound reverberates in his brain, he thinks, and he slides two fingers through your dripping folds in a trance, intent on getting you to make it again when he slips one into your entrance.
"fuck," he murmurs when he finally feels the clamp of your pussy around him, how tight and wet and hot you are around his thick finger, how your body responds to him, far nicer than you've ever been, especially to him. he pumps it until he can slide the other in with ease, and simultaneously rubs at your clit with the rough pad of his thumb.
you squirm, as if to get away from him, but at the same time you're tugging him closer, up, up, up until he can kiss you again.
now he can look at you when you break apart, because you look a little lost and a little dazed and a lot more lovely than he ever remembers, and your gaze isn't as intense as it had been, glazed over with the pleasure you're feeling.
the pleasure he's giving you.
knives shivers as he continues his ministrations and watches with amusement between kisses as your face contorts with each shift in his rhythm, his movement. he makes a pleased sound in his throat as he studies you; this is all new to him, especially with you, who has always perplexed him and simultaneously irritated him but somehow brought up these conflicting, intense emotions within him, just as conflicting and intense as you usually are to each other. he massages at your walls, scissors his fingers to stretch you wide for him (a thought that makes his cock throb in the confines of his pants), flicks at your swollen bud. you're clutching at his arms now, nails digging into his skin when he crooks his fingers in wonder and inadvertently nudges up against your sweet spot, gasping and swearing at him to keep going, right there.
you whine again when you cum around his fingers, dripping right into his hand, and this time, you're saying his name, too, and it's so high and breathy it rings pleasantly over and over in his head like a melody.
knives continues thrusting until you're pushing his hand away, breathing heavy. you blink up at him, eyes clearing, and that intensity is back in them.
but this time, emboldened by his obvious effect on you, he holds your gaze as he brings his sullied fingers to his mouth and cleans up your mess, the taste of you melting on his tongue. warm, not unpleasant in the least.
when he's done, he presses them against your bottom lip until you open up for him, eyes glinting as your tongue slides along his skin, licking up his spit and the remnants of your slick, and something hot and impossibly urgent slices through his entire body.
and he can't fight another curiosity that sprouts in his mind.
knives takes his hand from you and shoves it down the front of his pants, stroking himself with your saliva, biting his bottom lip to keep in the groan bubbling up his throat at the much needed attention.
surprising you and himself, however, he dips down further between your legs, peeling the pitifully drenched gusset of your underwear to the side with his free hand so he can taste from you directly. just out of curiosity.
his tongue slides between your folds once, twice, before he grows frustrated with the fabric still obstructing your cunt and rips it down your legs with relative ease.
you choke back a sound that he would very much like to hear at that, your legs falling akimbo before he's tugging you back down to him with strong hands on your thighs.
knives pauses, then, gaze flitting between you and your pussy, watching with a strange sort of amusement and fascination at how your cunt flutters around nothing, how wet you are - practically dripping down onto his bed - how your brows furrow and you look like you want to snap at him, but you're biting your lip to keep it in.
and he almost wishes you would gripe at him again, just to bring him back down to earth.
he chuckles softly to himself before diving back down, licking his lips in preparation - and then he's licking at yours. he isn't entirely sure what he's doing - he hasn't had much experience, but he'd never admit that - running on instinct and your reactions alone, lapping up your slick and flicking his tongue at your swollen bud because it makes you keen. when he accidentally grazes his teeth against it your back arches, so he lavishes the sensitive bundle of nerves with attention, alternating between sucking on it and lapping up your every gush of arousal, a groan rumbling in his chest at how much he discovers he enjoys this; you are at his mercy in every way, the broad line of his shoulders keeping you from clamping your legs shut around him, the pleasure you're so desperately clawing at him for at the very tip of his tongue.
he isn't bothered in the least by the obscenely wet sounds of his lips smacking against your skin, his tongue sliding along your folds and into your twitching hole so voraciously it seems to have made you give up on holding in the sounds you make, writhing against his sheets and nearly crying curses at him, your initial aggression towards him long since dissipated into something needy, almost desperate, and entirely wanton.
and when he glances up at you, he doesn't think he's ever liked an expression on you more than the pleasure and desperation so evident across your features, the heavy flush of your skin and the sweat dampening the edges of your face, so lovely when you call for him.
you tense considerably, as you had the first time, and he knows you're close.
and he wonders how you'd react if...
knives pulls away with a parting smack of his lips around your clit and a devious grin.
instantly you choke out a sob, back arching and eyes widening in shock as the peak you'd been cresting gets ripped out from right beneath your fingertips.
from beneath his tongue.
"knives, no, fuck- i-" you gasp and stutter helplessly as your brain catches up, and he loves how needy you sound, it lights him up from head to toe.
he cuts you off before you can recover, swiping carelessly at the mess on his chin before kissing you again, moving like a man starved, as if he hadn't just devoured his fill from you. simultaneously he shoves the band of his pants and briefs down just enough to free his cock, groaning into your mouth along with you when he slides himself between your folds, so unbelievably wet and warm and borderline heavenly.
"knives," you murmur against his lips, reaching down and pressing his length against the heat of your pussy with a warm palm to help him along.
he grunts at the direct contact, breath hitching when he covers your hand completely, yours so much smaller and softer than his, your thumb lining his slit before guiding him to your twitching hole.
"knives, put it in, fuck-" you're writhing again, gritting the words between your teeth like it pains you not to have him inside you.
but again, to your credit, you're not begging, but demanding.
he can't deny the jolt it sends through his system, how needy you look yet so stubborn, too prideful to even ask nicely, as fierce and feisty as ever, even underneath him.
"nai," he mumbles before he can stop himself, finally pressing the head of his cock to your entrance, nudging until you tug him towards you with gripping hands at his hips. he pushes in with a breathy sigh, watches the way your pussy parts for him with rapture, every painstaking inch that disappears inside your heat, the hug of your walls unlike anything, anything he's ever felt before. you're so tight he has to draw back just a bit before thrusting back in, and you gasp, too, when he slides in to the hilt, his hips touching the inside of your thighs. "call me 'nai' when i'm fucking you," he finishes with another shallow thrust, more breathless than he'd like to be, nearly growling it into the crook of your neck, relishing the way you shiver at the depth of his voice.
to his surprise you laugh, breathy and soft, fingers gliding along the smooth plane of his back, lingering on the muscles that jump beneath your touch. you turn your head to bite lightly at his jaw, nip at his ear, making him shudder, and whisper, "then fuck me, nai."
"fuck," he nearly snarls as he draws back and plunges back into you, setting a pace so ferocious you can do nothing but hold onto him for dear life, eyes going wide as your body writhes beneath him, as if trying to catch up to the pleasure you're feeling. his hips smack wetly into yours, big hands skimming over your skin and squeezing a little meanly at where you're softest (bruises in the shape of his fingers along your body are thoughts that seem far removed from your mind at the moment), pausing to grip at the thick of your thighs to keep you open for him.
he loves how you look all splayed beneath him, pliant and vulnerable and just the right amount of messy, beautifully debauched in a way he's never seen you and isn't sure he's likely to see again, and god, is he going to savor it.
he'll treasure this moment as he should; he just wants to devour you, pick you apart piece by piece just to see how much you can take, see if you'll still gift him with that annoying little smirk of yours even after he's wrecked you.
he has no doubt that you will.
knives slows his hips to a deep grind just to drop his gaze and watch with intent fascination as his cock disappears between your dripping lips, how wet and sinful it looks, yet how sweetly you suck him back in, the instinct pure and unyielding to drive back into your heat - so addicting it takes his breath and makes goosebumps ripple across his entire body.
"oh, nai-" you moan between breaths, and it's like a drug injected right into his bloodstream; he has no doubt his pupils are the size of saucers. he picks up his pace again, chases the perfect, velvet hug of your walls around him, keeps his mouth busy by licking and sucking at your nipples, grazing teeth and biting greedily at the soft flesh of your chest, delighted when you arch your body up into his hungry mouth.
before long he can feel you seize up again, and he decides to take mercy on you this time, sneaking a hand between your bodies to paw ruthlessly at your sensitive clit. you heave, nails raking across his back and in his hair, the short burst of pain mild compared to the pleasure he feels when your cunt flutters around him, compared to the pretty look on your face when you finally taste heaven again. when he lets you.
he's never heard his name sound as beautiful as it does when it breaks on your lips, half-sob and half-moan, cracked in the middle as you clutch at anything you can reach, pure pleasure washing over every part of you and across your face. you're squeezing him so tightly he has to still his hips, instead just pushing into you as deep as he can and relishing the tantalizing flutter of your walls, the way you gush so sweetly around him, gritting his teeth to try to stave off his own release just to feel you a little longer.
knives nips at your parted lips as you come down, trying to catch your breath. "not bad," he drawls against your skin, hiding his smirk into the edge of your jaw. there is a surge of energy inside him that has everything to do with you cumming on his cock. his. but he wasn't going to let that show.
you huff an annoyed breath but you're smiling slyly, squeezing at his forearms to get his attention. "let me get on top." your voice is so surprisingly gentle, the hostility towards him you'd been holding onto so stubbornly seemingly torn to pieces by his fulfilment of your desires, that he almost misses it.
and once more, he heeds your demands without even thinking twice, pulling out and disposing of his pants and underwear in the process.
you sit up and straddle him as soon as you're able, capturing his lips in a kiss so heated and passionate he almost swears he can feel you drip like lava down his throat, your tongue lapping at his mouth like he's made of sugar.
he's never been treated this way, much less coming from you, who had only given him the time of day to express your disdain towards him - and vice versa - and the idea itself is so jarring that it leaves him speechless and malleable like putty beneath you when you finally pull away.
you trail your greedy mouth down his jaw and neck, licking and biting lightly as he had done, fingers sliding down his abdomen and making him shiver before wrapping around his cock. he throbs in your grip, groans a little when you give him a sound squeeze and swipe your thumb slowly along the sensitive tip, hips jerking up instinctively to meet you when you stroke down, other hand fondling at his balls.
you draw back just a bit to look at him, and for the first time he sees you admire him openly, your eyes clear and smile salacious when your gaze rakes down his naked body. it sends a shiver down his spine.
"shit," you breathe, loosening your fist to touch feather-light along his shaft, watch the twitch of it with rapt satisfaction. "i hate your fucking guts, but god you're fucking beautiful." you snort, partly amused, partly like you're annoyed with him about something he can't help. he's all too familiar with that from you. "even your dick is pretty."
knives is somewhat used to being openly admired for his looks and physicality - it was nothing he'd ever brag about, just a fact of his life that he couldn't avoid. you had been the only person before this who seemed unimpressed by him, going as far as to look disgusted by his mere presence. to hear you admit you find him beautiful nearly knocks him over.
but before he even has the chance to process it completely, you're sitting up on your knees, holding his cock firmly once more and positioning him at your entrance.
you sink down on him excruciatingly slow, fighting to keep your breathing even at the stretch of him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.
knives grits his teeth at the slow - god, deeply satisfying - drag of his sensitive cock along your walls, a moan rumbling deep in his chest when you're fully seated. your back arches, pressing your chest against his as you lament, breathless above him, "fuck, that's- that's deep." you wiggle a little in his lap, adjusting, breath catching when the head of his cock must nudge up against that sweet spot inside you.
not for the first time on this godforsaken night he finds he has nothing to say. your pussy is a vice he doesn't think he can ever get used to - in the best way - and he's still trying to accustom himself when you start moving. you raise yourself up without prompting, and then drop back down with a whine so lovely it sends shivers down his spine. in no time at all you're bouncing deliciously in his lap, squeezing at his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck and the side of his face as you mindlessly chase your high again, setting the pace and focusing on your own pleasure.
knives won't lie, this view of you, so vulnerable and full of desire that you're hardly thinking straight, using him for your own pleasure, it should irk him - but it just arouses him even more. he secretly relishes this side of you, your usual aggression towards him transforming instead into this lustful, delirious frenzy - it's in the way you tug at his hair, the raspy groans that escape from deep in your throat.
soon he's just as lost in you, thrusting up to meet you when you come down, shoulders pressing hard into the wall behind him. you're mesmerizing, the way you roll your hips, chest bouncing at his eye level, perfect for him to continue his earlier endeavor of licking and biting at them, loving the way the supple flesh fills his mouth, the way your skin darkens where he nips a little too hard. distantly he hopes the marks he makes last a long time.
he quickens your pace with strong hands on the curve of your ass, fingers kneading at your cheeks and forcing you down on him. you can do nothing but whine, thighs shaking on either side of him, as he takes over for you and bounces you on his cock, arching back when his pelvis grinds up against your sensitive clit.
your walls are clenching again and he can feel it so acutely with every drag of his cock, how you keen every time the head of him nudges into the deepest parts of you.
"can i- do you want me to-" he's never been this inarticulate in his life, and his voice is so gruff he feels like he hasn't spoken in too long, but he's saved the embarrassment because he doesn't think you're thinking straight enough to notice either.
you seem to be holding onto your sanity by a thin thread, however, because you seem to understand just fine, tugging at the roots of his hair to tilt his head back so you can kiss him again. "yeah, yeah, cum inside, just-" his hips jerk up at your words and you interrupt yourself with a gasp. "just for tonight."
knives practically growls, arms sliding around your waist and pressing into the small of your back to hold you tight to him so he can snap his hips up, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you so hard and fast it makes you tremble and renders you practically immobile. he can feel you squeeze around him and it only takes a few frenzied thrusts to fly into his peak, a low groan escaping him, and he thinks he sees stars when he digs into you as deep as he can and spills inside you, each heavy pulse of his cock pumping you full.
he doesn't think he's ever cum this hard, this much, felt pleasure so deep that the absence of it in the aftershocks makes him ache.
and you moan at the feeling, at the mess he's made of you, still grinding against him sloppily despite how he'd manhandled you and forced you so close to him there's hardly any space between you, blinded by lust and nearing your own orgasm. knives has half a mind to slip a hand between you and help you along, massaging at your swollen clit until you cum again in just a few seconds, clutching at his hair and scrabbling at his back, choking on his name in a way that he thinks will replay in his head for a very long time. he hisses, sensitive, when your pussy spasms so sweetly around his flagging cock, fingers twitching around the fat of your ass.
he doesn't realize he's still clutching you tight to him until you've both come down and the fog of lust has cleared, chests heaving together, and the stickiness of his skin against yours sets in.
he can do nothing to quiet the countless thoughts racing in his head, but he suffers quietly, waits for you to put into action what he knows is inevitable but can't admit he doesn't want.
you're stronger than he gives you credit for, he can concede that now. once you catch your breath, you take one more deep one, and seem to gather yourself before sitting up from where you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck. you don't meet his eyes when you break free, for which he can't decide if he's thankful or regretful - he can't decide if he wants you to hate him even more now than you did before or.... something else entirely.
but he isn't stupid enough to think sex would solve any kind of conflict, especially between you two.
"not bad," you breathe, throwing his words back at him with that lovely little smirk as you disentangle yourself from him and collapse onto his bed on your back, trying to steady your breathing when the pressure of him between your legs leaves you.
he doesn't realize how cold his room actually is until your warmth is gone, and goosebumps raise across his skin for a completely different reason than before.
knives couldn't control his gaze if he tried. he watches with an undeniable heat in his face as the mess between you - proverbial and physical - becomes clearer, as a mix of his release and yours drips down the inside of your thighs and onto his bed, shines across your skin and his abs.
he has to resist the urge to reach over and plunge his fingers back into your core in an instinctual attempt to keep it all inside you.
but then you're straightening your quivering legs and rolling away and onto your feet, swaying just a bit, unsteady. "um." you reach for something on the floor and pull it over your head - his hoodie, he realizes, with a too-loud thump of his heart - and pointedly hold the hem of it down in the front between your legs, squeezing them together slightly. he wonders if you're suddenly shy, after all that, and can't stop the thought that pops into his head that he finds that incredibly... cute. "i'm just gonna-" you turn abruptly towards his bathroom, and he can't help but notice the high flush on your cheeks, the way you're borderline waddling as you try to slip away as quickly as possible.
before he can think any better of it, knives scrambles to his feet and shoves his pants back on and follows you. without another word he runs the water in the sink until it's pleasantly warm and wets a hand towel, and then he finally faces you with a pointed look and a twinge in his chest.
did you really think he was a shitty enough person to leave you with the mess he helped make?
you're beside him at the sink, watching him with a curious look he can't quite read, tissue already in one hand, the other still trapping his hoodie between your legs.
knives sighs, wrings out the towel and gets down on his knees.
never once had he thought he'd ever be in this position, but he pushes away any implications and focuses on you.
finally, you look him in the eyes once more. he cocks a thick brow up at you, and after a moment, you nod once, letting go of the fabric in your hand and relaxing a little against the bathroom counter behind you.
his heart thuds in his ears as he slowly reveals your skin to him once more. you spread your legs a bit and he starts wiping up from where you'd dripped down one of your knees before he even has to lift the hem up, pressing it against your soft stomach and making sure to be gentle with his strokes. if his touch lingers, he pretends not to notice.
he does notice where your skin has darkened where he'd been a little more rough with you, and touches even softer.
he didn't even know he could be this tender, too.
perhaps it's the intimacy of the moment getting to him, bereft of the lust that had clouded judgment in the moments prior, but he finds himself pressing his lips against your hipbone when he's done, so softly he may be able to brush it off as accidental had you not been watching him so intently.
though you avert your eyes when he looks up at you and gets back to his feet.
he feels your eyes on him again when he rinses the towel in the sink, and when he looks up and catches your eye in the mirror, you look like you want to say something.
but then you're shaking your head minutely, offering him the reflection of a tiny little smile, tucked into a corner of your lips but even he can see it's genuine. you're toying with the hem of his hoodie, turning the band of it back and forth in your fingers, barely visible past the too-long sleeves. "thanks, nai."
nai.
you pause, and then lean in to peck at his bare shoulder, so quick he isn't sure if he'd imagined it, and then you're gone.
you're pulling on your underwear right at his door when he finishes drying his hands and comes back out to his room. you only spare him a sleepy, yet playful grin before you're disappearing quietly on the other side of it.
.
vash is the only one to notice and comment on the oddly quiet morning, the only one to notice that it's because you and knives haven't fought once and in fact won't even look at each other.
he isn't surprised, however, as he'd also been the only one to notice you emerge from his room with an entirely different top than what he'd lent you the night before (though they both, significantly, belonged to knives), not to mention the small spots that marred your skin that had definitely not been there the night before, either, concealed only by the hoodie you were practically hiding in but peeked out when you moved a certain way.
he doesn't say anything, of course, a fact he's proud of, as you and his friends have lovingly labeled him a blabbermouth. he loves you enough, after all, and would never purposely embarrass or disrespect you in any way.
that, and when he woke up on the couch only to catch his brother washing his sheets too early in the morning with dark, red lines starkly contrasted to the pale skin of his back, knives had shot him a glare so deadly, he thinks it scared him back to sleep.
vash smiles to himself and tucks that information in the back of his mind for later.
#knives#trigun x reader#trigun stampede#trigun stampede x reader#trigun knives#trigun knives x reader#knives x reader#nai x reader#trigun nai#trigun nai x reader#nai smut#knives smut#trigun smut#nai trigun#nai trigun x reader#millions knives x reader#millions knives#um#this got way away from me idk what to say for myself just take it#im a knives fucker but ik not everyone else is so i post this out of sheer love for him 😔#if not me then who#ten.writes#nai#trigun
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Little but Fierce VI
She winds up… there's the pitch…
Poor Nick. It never stops being funny. I'd feel sorrier that this happened to him but he's such a bastard in his introductory episode. It's like karma in advance.
Heheh. Kar-ma.
Meryl and Wolfwood behave very much like siblings to each other, while Vash and Roberto treat them like their awful terrible kids. Roberto does actually try reach out to Vash as a mentor once or twice, but of course Vash is fuck-off old and doesn't need that kind of assistance, so he's gently deflected. Roberto is old and wise enough to keep his distance. Nick, for his part, enjoys pissing Roberto off, and Roberto is for his part duly pissed off.
Still, Vash is the reason they're all even there in the first place and Meryl shows him concern. And Vash, in his way, fusses over Nick the way Roberto feels responsible for Meryl. A lot of what Vash does, he's doing pretty much solely for Wolfwood's benefit. I mean, look at this pathetic wet kitten of a man - you can't tell me he doesn't need it.
I've already talked at some length about why exactly Vash is like he is about Wolfwood, but what's he like about Meryl?
Pretty much exactly as fond. He's just quieter about it. To my read, he's confident she and Roberto can look after themselves and each other. That's really endearing to him, but not something he has to do anything about. And Meryl's not suffering the same kind of identity crisis as the Punisher/Wolfwood/Nico. Meryl knows exactly who she is, she's just trying to get everyone else to acknowledge it, and Vash does so from the first - she's never anything but "Meryl" to him, not "newbie" or "little lady". She never has to demand that of him.
Nor is she in directly a victim of his godawful brother, which thankfully means she isn't his responsibility to help - or at least, no more so than any given human. Also, it's Vash. What's that? Someone is invested in his well-being? Golly, that sounds suspiciously like he's being cared for (which of course he doesn't deserve), or (more reasonably) like someone vulnerable to being caught up in Knives's manipulations. Or just someone vulnerable to Knives period. Stampede out!
I though you guys were buddies./I thought you three had something special.
No way./Yeah, not really.
Too bad for him, he's met his match in Meryl Stryfe.
In direct contrast to every other character around Vash, she's only one there not because she has to be, or because she needs or wants something from him, but because she decided to be. She's one of the only characters with agency, after all.
Real people aren't monsters like that./He's a man, not a monster.
But I won't give up, no matter how unreasonable the assignment!/I won't abandon an assignment just because it's silly.
We can't just leave him hanging here./No way. We can't just leave him here.
And she's also decided he needs help. So come hell or high water, this man is getting helped.
It's her knack for finding the truth without quite knowing the reasoning behind it. In physical terms Vash really, really doesn't need help, and it's the mistake Knives always makes; that because Vash ostensibly doesn't have powers like him, he's in need of a defender. (And because this is Knives, that means it's up to him personally, and he's entitled to Vash and his exclusive love/loyalty/devotion in return. Any protests Vash makes are clearly just human corruption.) But what Vash actually needs is something his brother has never, in any version of the story, demonstrated the capacity to give him. Even sensitive little boy Knives back in Maximum relied on others for reassurance up until the moment he decided he couldn't.
Vash is more inclined to be someone others rely on, to the point of being maladaptive. It's being unable to help that gets to him, especially when he's held responsible.
What he needs is emotional support. Or, well... faith.
Wolfwood gives that to him eventually, but it takes some serious work, and it comes with its own attendant difficulties, like the fact that Nick's not in a position to extend Vash help himself no matter how much he might want to. Nick is, like Rosa and like Vash, a pragmatist. Do what you have to do.
Meryl has never needed that kind of direct demonstration. To her, Vash is a person, and people always need help, and she's not going to be prevented giving it. End of discussion. And despite being mistaken on some particulars, on this point she's more right than even she knows.
The contrast with Wolfwood is incidentally why Meryl hitting Woofwoof with the truck isn't just fucking funny, it's the perfect way for him to be introduced. He can't catch the same bus as Vash by happenstance because this time Vash is his actual target. He can't have Angelina II because personal transport is autonomy he's not permitted to have.
Instead, Meryl's own autonomy and narrative significance had her run the plot right into him, completely ruining whatever plans were laid for his entrance. Notice Roberto tries to steer Meryl away from the collision course they're on, to no avail, and Vash winds up flipped over. Fantastic.
Wolfwood is getting dragged around; Meryl is the one doing the dragging. When she discovers Vash's secrets, she works to accept them and integrate them into her worldview - which means that the moment she learns he's a Plant, she doesn't reject him or become fearful of him. She instantly accepts that must mean the Plants are also people. That gives her a fuller understanding of the conflict, and especially Vash's view of it, than most. It's not a matter of "Whose side are you on?" It's "How do we move forward together?"
Wolfwood's knowledge has all been filtered through the Eye of Michael, so he's more aware of the details, but can't disentangle his true beliefs from the ideology driving them.
Meryl has a better understanding of the abstract. And that, in turn, entitles her to learn what the available methods are, and judge them...
...But it also entitles her to something more precious: Vash's unquestioning trust.
It's certainly much less dramatic than the demonstrations between Vash and Nick, but I have to say: any amount of exposure to Knives and his histrionics would leave me, at least, pretty relieved to have it.
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX
#trigun stampede#trigun meta#tristampparty#meryl stryfe#vash the stampede#meta: little but fierce#at this point I'm leaning into the yapping#so many words#i guess she is a journalist#also nick's introduction just gets funnier. it's such an absolute shitshow#and at the end zazie's still like “well done”#i can't help reading it as ironic#like “lol great job getting hit by a truck punisher”#idk the way wolfwood interacts with other eom members always cracks me up. he fucking hates them so much
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I'll be here.
Vash x GN! Reader
Synopsis: you're spiralling, and someone comes to help
Warnings: mentions of self-destructive thoughts, allude to suicidal ideations
A/N: third one i've made of these self-indulgent comfort shit LMAO, but don't judge me.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Suffocating. Stifling. Drowning.
Your hand flexed, fingers curling in on themselves to try and distract from the feeling of your chest concaving.
In and out. In and out.
Rhymathtically and almost robotically, in hopes that it would quell the darkness approaching you. Everything it touched withered away like death itself had grazed them with its bony claws. It was terrifying, at least it should've been. You couldn't help but feel like, at this moment, "death" wouldn't be so bad after all. A graceful ending to the turbulent turmoil that was the hell you were living in. Even purgatory would've been more desirable.
God, it hurt. It was the type of pain that settled deep into the crevices of your soul, the kind that lay in wait for the day you just gave up. It's a quiet predator, one that doesn't care how long it takes. Patient, deadly, and counting the seconds until your eventual demise. You couldn't even find it in yourself to give a single fuck.
There comes a point where the pain, the agony, just becomes routine. It becomes as regular as waking up to scroll on your phone, as simple as brushing your teeth. It doesn't hurt as badly as it did before, but you can't help but feel that you'll die with it clutching on for dear life. Maybe you deserved this. Things like this only happen to bad people, right? What are you, if not the most horrible person to ever exist, if this is the kind of pain you were experiencing?
"Hey... Hello?"
Suddenly, you couldn't breathe. The darkness was closing in, and it was draining every single breath of air out of your lungs. Tears started to build up in your eyes and stream down your cheeks as you shook in fear. It wasn't fair. You were just trying your best. Why does this happen? Why does this always happen? Was your best not good enough? How much longer would you be forced to cycle through this barbaric game the universe decided to play with you?
"Look at me... Please look at me."
You shut your eyes and let out quiet sobs as you felt a shadow overtake your body. It was getting tougher for you to tell what was real, and you couldn't even feel the sharp sting of pain from digging your nails into the flesh of your palm.
Someone... please. Save me. I can't... I can't keep doing this. It hurts. This hurts.
PLEASE. SOMEONE PLEASE.
A calloused hand wraps around yours, squeezing gently. An instant burst of heat radiates throughout your arm, warming every cold crack that had been seared into the skin.
"Hey."
You look up to see cerulean irises boring into yours, accompanied by a tense expression on the person's face.
Vash.
The two of you stared at each other as the salty streams continued to pour down your face. You couldn't be bothered to wipe them, to hell with your decency. It was funny, though, with him, you never felt the need to be anything more. Maybe that was a bit selfish because, with you, he was nothing short of perfect. A bumbling idiot who always did his best to comfort you even when his own demons were clawing at his back. But who was the idiot now? The one who said nothing as he took you into his arms, or the one who clutched at his jacket, crying until there was nothing left? You felt him rub your back as he whispered into your ear, and you couldn't even decipher the words. It just felt so good.
There weren't any words exchanged for a while; whether it was minutes or hours, you couldn't tell. Vash silently picked you up to cradle you in his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck. Slowly, the darkness started to fade away and unsink its claws from the flesh of your shaking body. He seemed to get impossibly closer as you melted into his touch, just craving some feeling of stability. How you wished you could have this all the time, just this comfortable silence.
"I love you."
You didn't flinch, and one would think you hadn't heard him if it weren't for the way you held him tighter. Because with him, it was never too much or too over the top. Everything always felt right, and that's something you'd treasure for as long as you could. It was Vash the Stampede, after all.
"I love you too."
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Distractions [3/3]
Gonna wrap this up in 3 parts. Previous here.
Yo, WHAT was happening on Twitter this week?? Every time I opened the app there was a new analysis of the Goddamn couch scene. I didn't think Trigun could hurt me any more and yet here I am in a new spiral over an internet stranger's hot take.
Anywaaaaay, I've had this brainworm way before whatever angst got a hold of Twitter. I've always interpreted Vash and Wolfwood’s relationship as 'right people, wrong time'. But honestly, I love every interpretation of them - platonic, soulmates, lovers, etc. So, through these comics I wanted to show moments during their journey that conveyed the gradual evolution of their relationship (as I head cannon it lmao). Canonically, Vash never gets to tell Wolfwood how he feels and my poor little heart has been in denial about that ever since. So this is my *slight* rewriting of the series of events leading up to Wolfwood's solo journey.
At this point in the manga (ch. 50) I wanted to show that, despite the 7 month time skip, it's like no time has passed between them. They're still comfortable and casual with each other, still seeking the comfort of distractions - Neither of them wanting to shatter the illusion of normalcy in this moment. And I feel Vash would be the first to ask for more when reality comes knocking (through Wolfwood's fist lol).
He knows, even in a best-case scenario, his time with Wolfwood is limited. And while Vash is just as shackled by duty and guilt as Wolfwood, he carries an optimism about him that Wolfwood lacks. He needs Woolfwood to know how he feels so he can live without regret, regardless of the outcome. As such, he takes the leap. Wolfwood, unfortunately, cannot bring himself to share in that optimism. He’s too absorbed in worry about the orphanage, the children and especially Livio. His heart is screaming at him, but he knows he can’t afford to be distracted by his “selfish” desires. So, he rejects Vash by being realistic and hopes he can see that he wants this too, but just can't bear the impending heartbreak due to their circumstances. Vash does see this. He swallows his disappointment and heartbreak, earnestly grateful for the relationship he still has with Wolfwood.
I know my characterization feels like it conflicts with the moment on the couch; Vash can't even look at Wolfwood for that entire scene despite Wolfwood being the one to try and connect with him ("You look better...when you smile."). However, I never saw that moment as Vash rejecting Wolfwood. Not in the traditional sense at least (maybe an inadvertent rejection). Vash wanted more between them (to share his tomorrows), but not like this - not as a deathbed confession. He's heartbroken and grieving and (somewhat selfishly) can't see that Wolfwood just wants to enjoy his last moments with the one person on this planet he can call an equal and a friend.
Speaking of the dreaded couch scene, I don't think I can add anything new to the discourse, but I will say the tragedy for me really lies in all the emotions Wolfwood goes through:
Being at peace with his death ("This is the way you want it?" "Yeah."). It's what he believed he deserved, with all the blood on his hands, and the mutation of his body, he assumed he could never return to his previous life with everyone at the orphanage.
Grieving for his future (confetti). Wolfwood never believed he could be forgiven. The children celebrating his return showed their acceptance of him, welcoming him back regardless of his sins. He was worthy of forgiveness. His guilt prevented him from even entertaining the thought of forgiving himself. There must have been regret in those tears.
Seeking comfort from the one person he grew to truly trust and Vash not being strong enough to give it. I already mentioned this above, but Vash not even being able to look at Wolfwood throughout the entire couch scene tears me up.
From the narrative's perspective, Wolfwood needed to die. And even knowing that, it still absolutely destroyed me (and still does). Not just because he died, but because right before his death, he was given a glimmer of hope - that had he survived the fight with Livio, he would have had a chance at happiness.
Last side note here: I've seen discourse online explaining the entire scene is a metaphor for a wedding and I just wanna say, you'll be hearing from my therapist.
#congrats you made it to the bottom!#I really got carried away here#text rant#trigun spoilers#trigun maximum spoilers#trimax spoilers#trigun#trigun maximum#trimax#character study#vash my beloved#vash the stampede#trigun vash#trimax vash#wolfwood my beloved#nicholas d. wolfwood#nicholas d wolfwood#nicholas wolfwood#trigun wolfwood#wolfwood#vashwood#vash x wolfwood#wolfwood x vash#copium#screaming crying throwing up#thanks for coming to my ted talk
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I've been thinking about how Vash always seems to be hungry. Or at least, that he's shown eating quite often in the manga. Happily having his salmon sandwiches. Eating an entire box of donuts in the side car. Knowing the conversion rate of bullets to pizza. Seeing a flower and immediately wondering if it's edible. Pondering his life over breakfast. It's a really cute little character detail about him - he likes food.
But then I kind of started to think about the angel arm and its specific brand of destruction. How there were no bodies to be recovered. Nothing but a crater left of July, left on the Fifth Moon. It's all been incinerated. Devoured, even. Tristamp takes it even a step further and makes the power something akin to a black hole - a yawning drain; a constant destructive hunger.
Vash is clearly terrified of this potential for destruction, and for very good reason. But it's not separate from him as some kind of "power he can't control" - it's his arm. It's literally his arm. It is him. Vash is scared of himself, scared of losing control. He does what he can to repress it, even subconsciously (the gaps in his memory whenever it activates). He can't control it in the moment, so he takes steps to preemptively push it down, to avoid the use of his abilities entirely, to hide himself away.
I talked a bit in a previous post about how there are probably several interrelated reasons for Vash's chronically avoidant behaviour, but I'd like to throw one more into the ring and suggest that it's not just a matter of not deserving to want things, but maybe also that he's afraid of wanting. That if he allows himself to even think about what he wants personally that he'll want too much, take too much, and that the only cure in his mind for this is to give and give repeatedly.
I wonder how starved he is for love. Vash loves hard, after all. Once he loves (and I’m not talking about the broad, distant love/compassion he has in general), for better or worse, he carries them around with him forever, long after they've passed. Does he feel like it'd be selfish to admit this kind of want? His love isn't really a passive thing after all - it's the drive at his very core; a mournful inferno he is just barely suppressing. Does he remember how to love in a way that doesn't consume him entirely?
Is that part of the reason he checks out at signs of intimacy? Diverts gifts towards others? Tends to accept kind gestures only when under an assumed name? Intentionally starves himself in Tristamp? Runs and runs and runs? Is he afraid he won't be able to stop hungering? That allowing himself to want means his want will become insatiable?
I just have to wonder how much of his avoidance of connection is being scared that he will cause more destruction (to them? or to him?) by trying to take far too much into his hands than he ever caused by turning his back and running.
...of course I may just be entirely deranged here sorry.
#yeah idk either i wrote this in a haze at 1 am#also i have not yet finished trimax so idk how these kinds of matters are going to be tackled or if i am way off base#if nothing else this kind of reads like one of my guilt spirals and writing it out made me realize how batshit insane i must sound#outside of my own head so if nothing else i guess it was kind of useful for that?#anyways. vash's solution to being hungry all the time is to pretend he isn't hungry for so long he doesn't know what he craves anymore#incredible.#on that note by contrast i'm intrigued by meryl and milly ordering their trademark food and drink with such confidence#also i do love how this fear of a part of himself conflicts so strongly with how incredibly confident he is otherwise#cool character choices you know?#aghhh ok i guess i'll post this before i chicken out. i can always delete it if i hate it after#trigun#trimax#tristamp#vash the stampede#storyrambles
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Decay
Okay, it's a bit sad, but I came with the terms of being a lover of just writing the stream of consciousness of Vash's dark thoughts. It manifested in like 20 minutes while listening to a song I heard today.
Warnings: Vash x reader, g/n reader, no body parts mentioned, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, self-deprecation
He just stood there, twirling a small strand of his yellowish-golden hair between his calloused finger pads, looking at his own reflection. ‘Decaying’ Knives said one time. He’s decaying. Does it mean he’s being transformed to something remotely resembling a human being now, or does it just mean he’s finally getting what he deserved for all the sins he committed throughout his inhumanly long existence. Will it bring him close to you, at least? His anchor, his salvation, the last stop in his life?
He didn’t know, he didn’t want to know, probably. The fear filling him at the thought of watching you decaying in your human sort of way: covering with traces of your age, eyes filling with wisdom and some sort of tranquility and acceptance he so often saw in older people. How do humans process and grow from their experience in such a short lifespan? He sometimes felt as if he’s the same boy watching hundreds of ships falling to the ground, same boy just painfully tired. Decaying.
He leaned closer to the small mirror above the bathroom sink, trying to find signs of something. Maybe aging? He would’ve felt so elated if he saw even a small trace of wrinkles forming around the corner of his eyes or brow ridges – there was nothing there. Just the same youthful face he’s grown tired looking at. Not much time has passed after all, but year after year he grew more anxious at the thought of being left alone again. The insurance girls, kids at the orphanage, Livio, you – the crazy ones who stuck with him through thick and thin.
Even though he’s been conditioned by your sweet gentle voice, your precious touch, your affectionate voice not to fear future, not to loathe the past, he’s been stuck with himself in such moments, when you have been still sleeping and he had to face himself in all his monstrous glory while doing trivial things, probably brushing teeth, or shaving. How funny. Sometimes he didn’t think much of it. Sometimes he’s been starting spiraling down the corridors of his darkest thoughts.
Maybe he should end it all, covering all the ground around your lovely home with geraniums and follow you? Or maybe it would’ve been selfish again. It should be your favorite flowers. How funny that you wouldn’t ever come to know what your favorite flower is.
‘Vash?’ a soft voice called out to him, yanking from melancholy. ‘What my favorite man is filling his pretty head with again, m?’ Sounds of quiet steps and creaking wooden floor followed, topped with the feeling of warm body pressing to his back, enveloping him in a loving embrace. And with such an easy turn of his head, the view of his tired face changed into your smiling eyes. Anchoring, grounding and oh so loving.
‘Mmm thinking about how I should pamper my favorite Mayfly today?’ a small smile appearing on his own face.
If you liked the work, please reblog 💖
#vash x reader#vash x you#trigun x reader#trigun x you#trigun headcanons#vash headcanons#lion writes
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